It is somewhat shy of five in the morning and we are jetting along a slick motorway avoiding the spray-blindness of trucks as we glide effortlessly past…
on the road…on our way to ride a plane to a foreign land…
I glance to my left and see a wave of low cloud undulate across the hills to the west of the Trough of Bowland it looks as if the sky is struggling to wake beyond it while on my right a poor artist a spilled a muddy grey across the firmament to obscure with bland…
Drifting now I can only think of brighter skies and motorways other and how perspective always forces you to see soft clouds on a sunny day as being parallel to the road ahead. you must have seen this, the illusion happens best if the road is straight with no deviation it seems as if the skies themselves have been marshalled on the manner that the land was regimented to so long ago…
the illusion of waves quickly passes as the grey swallows us up and we burst anew into another realm of thrusting mist,,,
